Tempus Fugit
by thecrescentmoon
Summary: A broken heart never forgets... my first fic in a foreign language O.O


_**title: Tempus Fugit**_

_**challenge: # 22 dawn, # 30 knife**_

_**words: 1.111**_

_**warnings: none**_

_**summary: It's about letting go.**_

_**comment: First part of a 50 words freestyle challenge with my master-chan:) - i've never written anything in English, excuse my lacking skills. Nonetheless, read & enjoy!**_

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It's a new shitty day in your old life.

The sun hasn't come out yet, a grey, smoky curtain is hanging low over the skyline.

It's pouring, a soft wind bow strikes the rain into your room forming a small pond on the desk next to the open window. There is a letter on it. And the knife with which you opened the envelope.

You always associate rain with sad events in your life. It rained the day you were born, the day your mother died, the day he plunged into your life like a fiery storm and it has been raining since yesterday. When he completely disappeared out of your life.

You've been sitting on the bed in the same unchanged position for hours now, draping your arms over your knees and metamorphosing into something you don't want to be, a cold, emotionless creature.

You don't fear anymore, you don't feel anymore, neither the pain nor the loneliness.

There is **nothing** left, that's what you think. Nothing but a mere memory, vanishing, unchangeable. You've dreamt of tomorrow and all you've got are rotten chains of the past.

He is gone. And you are still there. He is gone. And your heart is dead.

The knife on the desk gleams at you.

Thumping your head against the wall, you give a small curse and close your eyes.

Burning him from your memory.

Tearing his image mentally into pieces.

Erasing him.

It's useless and you know that.

A broken heart never forgets.

Because life's taught you one thing for sure. Time doesn't heal wounds. Time solely makes you numb, turns the pain into something close to endurable. At this point nothing matters anymore because everything's already shattered.

By him.

He had been the first and only one who has gotten to you. Inside your head, heart, soul and everywhere else.

His mere presence was enough to bring dead, unmoving things to life, for he **was** life every single moment he breathed. Dead things like you.

Something about him attracted you and warmed you, stirring up strange, vague memories of laughter that you thought you'd lost and forgotten years ago.

Eyes wide open you are looking for reasons, a hint, just a single clue. When did your perfect world begin to crumble?

The ceiling gives no answer. So you stop staring at it leaving your sitting position to stand up instead.

Thinking about all those trivial things that you've wanted to tell him, never told him and surely never going to tell him anymore won't get you anywhere.

Frankly you don't really hate him. But you won't forgive him either.

Not because he has left you behind. It's actually your fault after all, for you've solemnly sworn never to love anymore.

Breaking this vow has proven to be a mistake. A fatal one at this.

But you won't forgive him because he has shown you the true meaning of loneliness, this starving agony eating on you.

And he has condemned you to live with it. But you won't.

You have a choice.

And you give the knife on the counter a swift considerate look.

Sometimes, you muse, being left behind is a relief.

You allow yourself a chuckle, a pained little laugh, reaching for the knife.

You test the edge on your finger. It sinks smoothly into the skin and draws some droplets.

A cut. A rush of blood. Redness. Blackness.

And that's it.

What are you waiting for?

'_So, is this your easy way out?'_

You startle and the knife falls down with a loud clatter while you whirl around.

A smirk. Jacket thrown over his shoulders like he owns the place. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. those piercing grey pools darting right through you - glowing, intense life.

His sudden, unexpected presence slams into you with the force of a hurricane.

The only thing you can manage right now is to stare him to death, eyes wide open.

Seconds, minutes.. an eternity, frozen in time.

'_It occurs to me I can't even leave you for a mere sec,'_

he continues and his voice wakes you up from the temporary trauma.

'I thought you were gone.'

He seems hurt. At least he pretends to be so.

'_Didn't you miss me at all?'_

You find yourself wishing you could say yes! _Yes!_ And every single minute without him is like being ripped apart. You want to tell him that only in his presence you can maybe feel alive, cheerful instead of indifferent, contented and not only satisfied. He makes you laugh and cry and everything in between. Nothing of it comes out and you give him a desperate look.

A flick of a smile before he closes the little gap between you.

His lips are cold, you think, like death.

But the kiss makes you feel warm like nothing else in the world.

It is as if time stood still. At least you wish it did.

The moment is over too soon.

He bows down and picks up the knife, his eyes questioning.

You swallow and find it difficult to catch your breath.

'I lost perspective', you finally say quietly. 'I thought a life without you seemed worse than death.'

His eyes darken, saying everything. Still he puts it in words.

'_What are you?',_ he asks.

Some hours ago you wouldn't have known the answer. Now you do.

'I am the present.'

'_And what am I now?'_

You swallow.

'The past.'

His smile slowly widens.

'_And do you solemnly swear to never forget that?'_

Closing your eyes you nod.

'_Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparible tempus', _he whispers into your ear._ 'Make the most of it._

_- Live.'_

When you lift your eyelids he is gone leaving you with his last words echoing through your mind.

You know it must have been the wind who has kissed you.

Too insubstantial to be real.

_Live_ he has told you.

And you will.

Life. A curse. A blessing.

You breathe out until all the air is expelled from your lungs, turning around, smiling briefly into the newborn day.

It's a new day, but not in your old life.

Outside you can see the first sun rays behind those dark, grey clouds.

The air smells clean and fresh. You make yourself breathe until it gets easier and easier, until you can feel yourself letting go of a part of you that is simply gone.

And then you decide to bring him flowers. Camellias. He would've liked them. A last gift, the last good-bye. You have to think about where to bring them though.

It's not like there is enough of him left to bury or anything.

**:Finis:**

_lat.: But meantime it is flying, irretrievable time is flying._


End file.
